Collateral Damage
by x.imagine.x
Summary: "Mess. It's a good way to describe this situation. It almost makes it seem like this is fixable, like you could grab a broom and sweep it all up. He wishes that were true, but if there's one thing he isn't anymore, it's naïve. He knows nothing can fix this mess." Adrian post-Last Sacrifice. Written awhile ago and recently rediscovered.


**A/N: Ok, so I found this when I was going through my writing. I'm not sure when I wrote it, but I'm guessing it was in my Post-Last Sacrifice depression about Adrian's fate.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything about this series. At all. Trust me. I wish.**

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**Collateral Damage**

He didn't think it would ever come to this. It might make him naïve, but he truly thought Rose would be fine travelling with Belikov. Sure, he hadn't particularly liked it, but there hadn't been a whole lot of options. He'd rather have her safe with her ex than locked up in a prison cell awaiting death. It was the best of a bad situation, in his opinion. Well, until now that is. Now, he was wishing they'd just left her where she was, or sent her away without Belikov. It would have produced a lot less… mess.

He halts in his movements as the word occurs to him. Mess. It's a good way to describe this situation. It almost makes it seem like this is fixable, like you could grab a broom and sweep it all up. He wishes that were true, but if there's one thing he isn't anymore, it's naïve. He knows nothing can fix this mess. Jill's life has been turned upside down, the Alchemist has probably lost her job and, consequently, her life, and he's lost the woman he loves.

He cringes at the word: loves. Yes, even after everything she's done to him, he still loves her. He wishes he didn't, but how can he not? She's perfection, in his opinion. He's never met anyone like her, and he thought that she was what he needed, but apparently she didn't feel the same way. The only thing she felt for him was pity. Their whole relationship was probably just her pitying him. In fact, Lissa was probably the one to convince her to do it. Sure, go out with poor, pathetic Adrian. He needs a boost. Silly him, he actually thought she cared about him. He won't be making _that_ mistake again. He won't let himself think he matters to another woman again, because he won't. What woman would want drunken Adrian Ivashkov, on the path to self-destruction? None. It's an answer he's resigned himself to, and it doesn't really bother him anymore. Why tie yourself down anyways? What's the purpose of devoting yourself to one person for the rest of your life if there are _all_ those women out there waiting for you?

He tries to smile at the prospect, but fails miserably. He hasn't smiled in almost two weeks. Not a _real_ smile, anyway. He's pretty sure he isn't the only one.

A knock at the door startles him, and he calls out for whomever it is to enter as he returns to the task at hand.

"Adrian?" A soft voice asks. He knows that voice and his eyes close as he exhales, readying himself to put on a show.

"Yes, your majesty?" He replies, making a mockery of the title, as usual.

She gives him a mock-scowl which quickly morphs into a grin as she steps fully into the room. Taking in the scene before her, she frowns slightly, the grin falling. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" He asks, the act slipping away.

"It _looks_ like you're packing."

"Good deduction. I can see why the Moroi people put their faith in you."

She's silent, recognizing the biting tone to his voice. He's no longer joking light-heartedly. In that moment, he knows he's let more of himself show than he wants to.

"But hey, if you couldn't figure that out, we'd sure be in trouble," He adds, attempting to bring back the easy joking.

"Adrian," She says, her soft tone indicating she didn't buy it.

"No," He snaps, continuing to shove clothes into his suitcase, "Don't pretend you're 'sorry' for me. You knew it was going to happen. You knew the _entire_ time what going off together was going to do for them. What you didn't consider was how it was going to affect me. _Nobody_ paused to consider how _I_ was going to feel once it all hit the fan!"

He abandons the half-full suitcase and whirls to face her. Taking in her startled expression at his outburst, he feels all of the fight leave him. He knows that half of it is spirit-induced and it worries him. He doesn't want to go crazy, but it's inevitable. He sinks down onto the bed and stares at the floor, trying to control himself.

"I just… need to get away. From all of it," he sighs finally.

He expects her to put up more of a fight, but she doesn't. He can't decide if it relieves him, or just hurts more that she's so willing to let him go. "Where will you go?"

He shrugs. "I hear California's nice."

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**A/N: And that would be it! I can't honestly remember where I was going with this because I wrote it so long ago, but I figure I'll leave it with him planning to head off to Bloodlines. (maybe I'll go read that now)**


End file.
